


Protective Instinct

by bookworm03



Series: Tumblr Fic [3]
Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Canon Era, F/M, Muscles, Oral Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 17:15:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5506202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm03/pseuds/bookworm03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sweet, dorky Ben has always been protective of her, and now they're adding three more people to the equation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protective Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> Transferring this over from tumblr! Comments, kudos, are, as always, love! <3

“Uh…h-hey, Ron, he-hey, what’s up…Ron Swanson, Ronald Swanson, Ronson - ”

“What is this babbling nonsense?” Ron barks, looking up from his glass of whiskey (okay, you really shouldn’t be drinking whiskey in work, even if your friend is the City Manager…wait, are they friends now? Sort of?).

“I uh…” Ben sighs and closes the door.

“Did I invite you in?”

“You know I’m your boss right?”

“Is this conversation going to be work related?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t care,” Ron arches an eyebrow. “Is it Leslie related?”

Again, Ben sighs. “K-kind…kind of.”

Ron growls and motions in front of him. “Fine. What?”

“So uh, remember…okay…remember when like…during Leslie’s campaign when I…punched that guy…and my hand was…”

“Yes,” Ron swirls the amber liquid in his glass. “I remember that being the first moment I respected you.”

“Uh, I was your boss for several months before that.”

Ron stares at him blankly like that’s supposed to mean something. Ugh, fine, whatever.

“And then…on…our wedding…you punched Jamm…”

“Correct. It was an excellent decision and I stand by that.”

“Okay, so…here’s the…how do you do that and not…have your hand hurt for like…three days afterwards?”

“What are you - ”

“Because she’s pregnant  - with _triplets_ \- and there’s already been several instances where I have or almost have…in defense of my wife, and…”

Ugh, this wasn’t coming out right. It sounded so weird to say _“Ron, could you or someone you know teach me how to not be such a wimp so when I do feel the urge to defend my family I won’t almost break my hand?”_

“I…hopefully there won’t be a lot of or _any_ situations where this actually has to happen, but if one were to arise I would very much like to at least sort of feel like I can protect my family, and,” he continues for good measure. “Given the legal…discussion we had, also yours should a horribly unfortunate situation…occur.”

Ron considers him more thoughtfully than Ben’s certain he ever has before. And then he pours him a glass of whiskey.

“You will drink this with me and,” he scribbles something on a pad of paper. “Meet me on Saturday at this address.”

Ben shudders, but accepts the scotch, knocking it back in one swig and choking it and a whimper down, because thank god that’s over with.

Until Ron pours him another one.

“You sip scotch, son.”

Goddammit, Leslie was going to have to drive home tonight. He hoped she could still fit behind the wheel.

*****

On Saturday, Ben leaves Leslie asleep under The Unity Quilt 2.0 with a kiss to her cheek. (Pregnancy makes her so tired, it’s kind of amazing and he’s kind of enjoying it way too much. She’s getting a solid eight hours most nights now.) He drives to the address in the bad part of town to a weird, industrial building, with a piece of paper in the window with the words BOXING GYM typed on it…by typewriter from the looks of it.

Good lord, what has he gotten himself into?

*****

Something’s different.

She’d know Ben’s slight frame and cute, flat butt anywhere, but something is definitely different. Maybe it’s the postpartum hormone surges, but he just…something’s different.

She notices this behind her laptop, sitting in bed, watching him pad around their bedroom dripping from the shower, with a towel slung around his hips. Their three month old infants are sleeping soundly (so far, the night is young) and though Leslie’s seen him like this a thousand times something is just….

His shoulders, while still bony, seem broader and there’s more…definition? No, that can’t be right. When did that happen? His waist is still small, but his little pooch of tummy at the bottom has shrunk significantly in size to the point where it’s almost gone and his back is…less slight and also more defined.

What…what is happening?

“Honey, have you seen my phone?”

Ben turns to face her, holding his tablet in his hand and okay _whoa_ those biceps were not there yesterday, Mr. Wyatt.

What the _heck_ has Ben been working out? When did that happen?

“I thought you left it on the coffee table,” she tilts her head. It’s not like she knows _everything_ he does, but if he’d been hitting the gym more regularly surely he would’ve told her. Had he, and she’d forgotten in the late stages of pregnancy brain?

“Oh, yeah,” he snaps his fingers and yup, those biceps are definitely new. “Thanks - ”

“Whoa, whoa, hang on,” she jumps up quickly and shuffles in front of him. “What’s…you look different?”

Now she feels silly for not noticing, because he’s her husband and she sees him naked at least once a day. Had the triplets really consumed her attention that much? When had she stopped noticing him?

Leslie presses her palms to his chest and slides them over it, feeling the muscles contract underneath. Ben’s brown eyes slant downward, wet hair flopping in front of it. The light menthol scent of his shampoo floods her nostrils and he shrugs a little.

“Uh…do I?”

“Mhmm,” she runs her fingers over his shoulders and down his arms and okay yes, someone has absolutely, without question been working out more. She’s felt him under her fingers a million times and he definitely feels different, harder, even more compact. Her eyes lift up to meet his and his cheeks have tinged pink.

“Uh,“ he palms the back of his neck. “It’s kind of embarrassing. I think you will…feel it unnecessary.”

Okay, now she’s frowning. What does that mean?

“I uh…okay, okay,” he grabs her waist and plucks her away from the door, sitting her back on the bed. He’s never had a problem lifting her, but usually she’s wrapped around him to at least sort of help and now he does it with ease.

“I’ve been working out…”

_Obviously._

“And…okay, and but, with Ron. Swanson.”

Okay, that’s weird. Chris was like…the workout guru and Ben surely would rather get a few personalized training plans from him instead of spend a significant amount of time with Ron.

“Um…what?”

“So,” he’s kneeling in front of her and she sees it all now. The fresh ripples under his skin, the new carves of his pectorals, the veins in his arms. A little thrum of desire rolls through her and her insides throb with need. Her super, sexy, brilliant, compact like a sports car husband is still all of those things…and a little more.

“I just…you were pregnant and we were supposed to not be stressing and I kind of needed an outlet beyond…” his mouth twitches. “You.”

She’d blow him a lot in her late first trimester and they’d had a lot of sex in her second thanks to her horniness. That always seemed to relax him.

“And I…the real reason is…I wanted to learn some…skills…” her brow furrows and he continues. “Like…punching…skills so I don’t…hurt my hand and such.”

He takes a breath, gaze searching her face anxiously. Leslie palms his shoulders and gives what she hopes is a reassuring smile.

“I was just thinking there are…there have been a few occasions where that kind of action has transpired or almost transpired and that was just with you, and I was thinking there are now four people in my life I’m supposed to…”

 _Protect._ Her dorky, lover-not-a-fighter, Lord of the Rings pen pal letter writing husband wanted to know how to protect her. Them. Their family. And Ron would understand that.

“Not…not that I want to like…go around picking fights or something, but I just…should the need ever arise I would like to feel like I could…”

“Protect us.”

She finishes for him. His face flames red and he nods and kisses her chest through her t-shirt. “Yeah. Yeah, that. Does it…sound weirdly macho or something?”

“No,” not at all. Not even a little bit. She would fight anyone - _anyone_ \- who tried to hurt any member of her family. Ben included. “It sounds incredibly sweet.”  

“And,” he gestures more confidently now and okay yeah, those arms and hands need to be put to other uses. “And it was kind of…fun and I got into it so I kept doing it, and - ”

She shuts him up by shoving her tongue passed his lips and winding her legs around his narrow hips. Ben groans and squirms, sliding his palms down her back. She flashes to the moment he punched out a jerk for her, to the moment he jumped up beside her at their almost-wedding when Jamm threatened someone to “make him”, to that time at a bar when some big guy had slammed into her and Ben snapped at him to “watch it” and moved Leslie behind him. Flashes to those times someone had cut him off driving and Ben’s hand had cut across in front of her, keeping her pressed back to the seat while he slammed on the brakes. Thinks about how whenever they walk down the street he always takes the outside, and whenever they’re sleeping he’s always facing the door. Ben had always been protective, of course he would be even more so with the triplets. He might not be a big, macho guy (and she loves that), but this is instinct and it’s been there since the beginning.

And eventually he’ll have Secret Service to handle this stuff, but for right now he has Ron to teach him to do it himself. And that was kind of adorably, amazing, wonderfully sweet.

He lifts her, again, with ease, depositing her on the bed and crawling over her while speckling kisses on her skin.

“It’s sweet,” she reiterates.

“Yeah?” he checks her eyes for confirmation that she’s super turned on by this. She grins and nods, grabbing his towel and throwing it to the floor. Her hand reaches for his cock to stroke, foot rubbing his ass, (which also somehow seems a little less flat,) as she yanks him against her.

When she sinks down on him with a whimper several minutes later, Ben thrusting up into her and his strong hands holding her waist, Leslie dips to kiss both of his biceps before starting to move. He chuffs a laugh and looks a little embarrassed at the affection - as he always does when she objectifies him - but then he pushes up and her hips roll and everything’s just so, _so_ good.

The triplets are miraculously still asleep when they clean up and snuggle in bed afterwards, Ben’s phone finally on his nightstand. Leslie squishes into his side, breasts full and tender and probably leaking a little through her t-shirt, as Ben wraps one of his arms - one of his somehow even more sexy arms - around her securely.

“I mean, try to avoid it,” he murmurs against her temple. “Don’t just start like…getting me into brawls so you can see me in action or something.”

Leslie giggles into his chest and strokes his belly. Apparently she’d just need to feed him some more cookies to get her pooch back.

“Are you good?”

“I have absolutely _no idea_ , Ron’s guy - _Sven_ \- isn’t exactly one for praise, so it’s hard to know - ”

She erupts in loud laughter now and Ben snickers into her neck and finds her lips with his.

“I get beat up a lot.”

She kisses his warm skin and sighs into it. They’ve come so far from that time he punched out a jerk for her, and even when he’s seriously driving her insane she loves him a little bit more each day.

Because her husband, her sweet and unassuming husband, would punch all the jerks out for their family. Even if he had no idea how to do it properly.

And that’s just about the most romantic thing she’s ever heard.


End file.
